One Red Shoe
by turtlesparadise
Summary: A small one-shot detailing Legend's reinstatement back into the Turks, Tseng's initial disdain over the matter, and Legend's ultimate motivation behind his willingness to return to the fold.


It had taken much convincing by Tseng - who didn't quite comprehend at first just why Veld wanted to bring Legend back into the ranks of the Turks so badly - to get Legend to agree to the idea in the first place. Then, he had to somehow talk him into returning to Midgar with him.

Much arm-twisting would be required; Legend had a counterpoint for every persuasive sounding argument Tseng threw at him.

"I'm in paradise, baby...surrounded by beautiful women...why would I want to _leave_?" He looked amused, puffing on a cigar while kicking back on a deck chair; his skin tanned to a deep bronze, auburn hair now lightened to a strawberry blond thanks to spending his days in the sun. "You give me one good reason, and I'll consider it. Maybe. But make it quick, I have a date...or if I'm lucky, perhaps several." He winked at several young women who passed by, most of them beach bunnies who had flirted with the easy-going playboy.

"You are under house arrest here," Tseng said flatly, disapproval apparent in his tone. "Though it does not seem you are suffering unduly," he added, rolling his eyes.

The Legend laughed. "No...but as they say, let the punishment fit the crime, hmm?"

"Doesn't seem you're being punished at all, in my estimation," Tseng remarked with a sniff, his dark eyes unflinching as he studied the laidback Turk. _Ex-Turk_ , he reminded himself. _Legend is not in our ranks...not yet, anyway._

"Did the Director tell you the nature of my... _crime_?" The Legend asked in a soft Junon-accented drawl, looking out from behind dark sunglasses.

"He said there was an incident at the Mako reactor," Tseng replied, rather icily. "I do not know the details. Does it matter?"

"Oh...it _matters_ , all right," the Legend said softly. "It matters." He suddenly looked away from Tseng, staring out to sea.

"Veld informed me that one of your former...associates, who was present at the incident where you were placed under arrest - he is our next target." Tseng waited, anticipating that the Legend would ask for a name, or something more. He saw the man's body posture stiffen, the jaw clenched, fists flexing open and shut.

He stood from his deck chair and grabbed the beach towel hanging off of the back, along with a small canvas messenger bag that he looped around his torso. "Let's go," he said coldly, already walking away from Tseng.

"Don't you want to - change into something else?" Tseng stammered, quickly following the other man. The Legend was clad only in swim trunks and sandals, and as he walked away from the beach, toward the Helipad, he shook his head.

"No," he replied. "I have everything I need right here. Whatever I don't have, I'll pick up when I get there. Let's go, we've got a mission, yeah?"

"We...do," Tseng said slowly, fascinated by the man's sudden switch from fun-loving to deadly serious.

Tseng later found it odd that it didn't occur to him until he was back in the pilot's seat, that he didn't even know this man's _name_. Veld had only referred to him in conversation as 'The Legend.'

"Do you have a name?" Tseng asked the man. The Legend was seemingly distracted, staring out the windscreen at the rapidly vanishing Costa shore as they took off.

"You can call me Zed," he replied, unsmiling.

"Fine. Zed it is, then," Tseng nodded, banking left as he piloted the chopper over the ocean, back toward the eastern continent and Midgar.

"...is that your real name?" Tseng prodded, already knowing the answer.

"No." This time, Zed spared a small grin. "So...is Tseng _your_ real name?"

Tseng smirked. "No. No...it is not."

* * *

Some time later, Tseng would come to find out what was in that battered canvas bag of Zed's, though it would not be until after he'd met with Veld. Upon arriving back at Headquarters, he was quickly ushered up to the Department of Administrative Research. Secretaries and other office workers whispered and gossiped amongst themselves as the suntanned beach bum, so casually attired, walked through the corridors accompanied by Tseng.

"You really could have changed before we left, you know," Tseng remarked disapprovingly.

Zed shrugged his shoulders as the elevator came to a stop on their floor, a soft ding sounding as the doors opened.

"Doesn't matter," Zed replied indifferently. "They'll requisition a new uniform for me anyway. Just like last time."

The meeting with Veld was brief, and to the point. Tseng could sense that the Director held Zed in a great deal of regard, and their conversation ended with a handshake and a rough, brotherly hug.

"Please see Zed to his quarters...he will be temporarily housed in the old Turks dormitory, until he finds something more permanent. Toiletries, uniforms, and other clothing have already been requisitioned and will be sent up to you shortly."

"Thanks, old chum," Zed said quietly, giving Veld a half-salute before taking his leave. He grinned. "...I owe you one."

Trying his best to conceal his irritation - really, Tseng was starting to feel like Veld's errand boy in this "fetch Legend" situation, and he was becoming resentful for it - Veld's second in command now ushered Zed toward the Turks' dormitory. The apartments were roomy enough, sparsely furnished and rather austere looking, but they served the purpose. During the height of the Turks' training program, new recruits were housed here while they went through boot camp. Nowadays the dormitory was fairly vacant, save for one or two recruits every now and then who would more often than not, fail to make the grade.

Zed entered the small studio apartment and looked around, nodding appreciatively. "It's nice," he remarked, setting his canvas bag down upon the breakfast bar off the small kitchenette. Reaching in, Zed pulled out a pair of black-and-white snakeskin boots, setting them down on the floor.

"Told you...I've got everything I need, right in this bag," Zed murmured. He grinned, and the next thing he extricated was a bottle of Costan coconut rum, which he set down upon the countertop.

Zed's expression sobered as his hand knocked up against another object in the bag; his face went entirely blank as he pulled it out, setting it next to the bottle of booze. It was a single red shoe; clearly a child's shoe from the size of it, and by the styling - a Mary Jane, embroidered with pink detailing along the sides, little hearts and curlicues emblazoned upon the red leather - it was the shoe of a little girl. Tseng found himself oddly curious by the sight of that shoe. Whose shoe had it been? Where was the other one?

Zed saw Tseng staring at the shoe and nodded. He knew the man likely had questions, but he was in no mood to answer any of them in great detail; and Tseng didn't feel as if he should ask.

"...Laurelei," Zed finally spoke, after a few moments of awkward silence. "That shoe...it belonged to _Laurelei_." The newly re-instated Turk set his lips in a thin line and uncorked the bottle of rum, taking a large swig.

"If you don't mind, Tseng...I'd like to be alone for a little while." Zed turned his back to Tseng, who wisely took his cue to leave.

"Of course," the Wutaian Turk replied, though his curiosity regarding the identity of this Laurelei was increasing. "I'll let you get settled...Veld will send for you to go over the mission particulars in a while."

"Sounds good," Zed muttered, taking another hard swig of liquor. Tseng said nothing further, staring at that little red shoe one last time before turning to leave.

* * *

Later on, as he finished compiling the latest field reports, Tseng accessed several top-clearance databases - census records, city directories, personnel records, anything he could find - entering "Laurelei" as a search term.

Each database search returned with the same error.

 _Data not found. Please check name and try again._

Tseng's curiosity only increased after finding nothing at all. When Veld called him into his office just prior to the mission briefing, Tseng decided to ask his superior directly.

"And how is Zed settling in? I understand he's received his uniforms, new PHS, all that - I expect him at the briefing in a few," Veld commented as he sat at his desk, jotting a note down on his calendar.

"He seems to be fine, I suppose," Tseng replied somewhat indifferently. "Sir...who is Laurelei? Zed mentioned that name, and his whole demeanor seemed to change. Much like it did when I met with him in Costa, and I informed him of who our target was."

"Mmm," Veld grunted, letting out a small sigh as he placed his hands on either side of his desk, gripping the edges. He slowly rose from his chair, grimacing.

"Laurelei...was a little girl," Veld explained. "She was Zed's daughter. She was killed during the incident at the Mako reactor."

"Ah." Tseng was quiet; what little he knew about Zed was starting to make sense now, and he was beginning to understand the man's motivation for putting that life behind him, at least for a bit, while he immersed himself into a hedonistic beach lifestyle in Costa.

Tseng also began to realize just why Veld hadn't given the legendary Turk a stiffer sentence. _Because he's already been punished, in the worst way anyone_ _ **can**_ _be punished._

"And our target...was he one of the men responsible for Laurelei's death?" Tseng asked.

Veld's face was impassive, and he carefully dodged the question. "I think you already know the answer to that question, hmm?"

Tseng nodded, quiet. "Yes, sir. I believe I do."

* * *

Notes:

Since there is not much known canon-wise about Legend - compared to other more popular canon characters, that is - I've expanded my own headcanon into this, and have injected my own interpretation of Legend's personality and motivations. Also, I've gone with "Zed" as a name for him; it seems fitting, and I tend to go with the theory that Turks do not use their real names anyway.


End file.
